


Forearms

by QueenoftheHobbits



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1532411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheHobbits/pseuds/QueenoftheHobbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naia Brosca wasn't sure what it was about Alistair's forearms...but there was definitely something about them that got her heart racing</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forearms

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or it's characters they belong to Bioware, nor do I intend to harm the franchise. This is purely entertainment and no money is being made from it. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Italics- Thoughts..._
> 
>  
> 
> I hope guys enjoy...this was inspired by a gif set of Dean O'Gorman...I couldn't exactly ignore his forearms and I thought immediately of Alistair and my dear Naia Brosca. This is my first time writing about them and it's my first mature/smut piece so...I hope its okay O.O I blame the Kink Meme for any thoughts about forearms and Alistair in general! ;)

There was something rhythmic about his movements…nothing that would normally constitute as sensual or erotic but yet Naia Brosca couldn’t help but feel utterly dazzled and bewitched.... All the poor man was doing was running a hand unconsciously up and down his forearm, from elbow to wrist with light thoughtless scratches. It shouldn’t have been so indulgent to watch but perhaps there was something a bit skewed about the warden’s judgment or perhaps it was just because it was him…

 

Alistair…she shouldn’t even be having those sorts of thoughts about him, shouldn’t be thinking about his mouth on…places, kissing and sucking…or his hands…the hands of a warrior…a fighter gripping her and lifting her with his particular brand of strength. By the Ancestors it was obvious from the moment she met him that he was strong, there wasn’t an area on his body that wasn’t muscle; after all not only did he carry around a shield and long sword all day every day, but he wore a substantial amount of heavy armour along with carrying a large amount of their supplies upon his well-shaped shoulders…that particular daily display of pure strength was enough to arouse her on its own…and she was sure both Morrigan and Zevran had noticed if their knowing smirks and cheeky smiles were anything to go by. On one hand it was rather irritating to be at the end of their scrutiny and laughter, while on the other it seemed to confuse her poor blushing chantry boy to no-end which in itself was worth a smile from her. 

 

Perhaps it was that he was finally out of his usual splintmail and instead in a simple white tunic and britches, both articles of clothing allowing her a rare view of the muscle that moved fluidly with his movements…or perhaps it was the firelight playing across his skin, making him seem younger with less weight upon his shoulders…or perhaps…almost definitely it was the slow almost teasing movements of his long fingers against his well-formed forearms, brushing against tanned skin and tight muscle…

 

Their relationship had been teetering from friendly banter to flirtation for a couple of weeks now…he had even given her a rose although she doubted he knew the true meaning of flowers in Dwarven culture…if he did he surely would be redder than a health poultice…after all in Orzammar he would have been seen as her suitor if not her fiancée for offering her a flower…after all one doesn’t often find flowers in the dark cavernous halls of Orzammar. 

 

It was both frustrating and endearing how oblivious he was to what he did to her, he didn’t know that she often lay awake at night pleasuring herself to thoughts of him or that more often than not she awoke soaked in sweat from dreams of writhing beneath his solid form…he was just too enchanting…she was hardly a Dwarva experienced in the ways of the male form…none of the dwarves in dust town had appealed to her, her little experience was from one night where Leske and her had drunken a bit too much ale and had ended up rutting in a dark alcove with little memory of it the next day. She figured most dwarves would look upon her with disgust at knowing she felt a deep amorous longing for a human…a tall, gigantic, solid, innocent, and sarcastic human... 

 

As much as she wished for the feeling of his lips upon her tanned skin, his honey coloured eyes staring reverently at her body, and the feel of his hands as they card through her dark hair, she knew it was an impossible wish…human females were far different from she-dwarves, they were all tall, willowy, and lithe…while she was short in height with bountiful curves and a thick stomach and thighs…surely she was as repulsive to a human as most were to dwarves…Alistair being her exception…

 

Everything about him showed qualities that all dwarves valued…strength, loyalty, and a fighting spirit…In all her years she had never felt a particular attraction to humans…but watching him gave her a dry mouth and an inability to function correctly…which perhaps was the reason for her tripping over her pack as she walked towards the fire… _well at least I haven’t lost any of my previous charm since becoming a Grey Warden…ever clumsy Naia…what a great way to get Alistair in your tent…idiot…_

 

“Naia…are you alright?” She saw his boots first…Ancestors help her…she always seemed to make a fool of herself in front of him, being on her hands and knees staring at his boots wasn’t the worst thing she’d done…Leske would be laughing his arse off and with good reason, by the stone she was a Grey Warden, an ex-street thug…she’d broken the bones of more people and creatures than she cared to count but Alistair…well….he always seemed to do a brilliant job of flustering her without even trying...

 

“…Right…up you get, Naia” she blinked looking up at him to see a determined expression settle on his features. Eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, and she realized her lack of response had resulted in a typical Alistair assumption…he must have thought she had truly hurt herself…of course she had only really bruised and scratched her knees and hands and everything else was in order…except perhaps her sanity and the pounding of her heart against her ribcage…it felt as if it was going to leap out at any moment…perhaps run to Alistair proclaiming how it belonged solely to him now...

 

As always Alistair was loyal to a fault…particularly when Naia was involved, she barely contained a surprised squeak when he bent down and lifted her up by her soft waist with little effort at all and she clung to him like a child to a pet nug. While having gotten over the belief that she could fall into the sky, she still didn’t particularly like being above the ground, although she, against her will, began to relax as he walked…after all he was a solid mass of walking sass and muscle…and he was so warm…it was like standing by one of the Lava flows in Orzammar. 

 

Testament to how tightly she clung to his front was that he managed to crawl into her tent with her hanging off him like a mussel to a rock, not once did she slip or fall but with the ground below her she was reminded of just how close the two of them were and just how cozy their situation had become…it started a fluttering in her tummy, and a warmth to grow on her cheeks. There was something exciting about her position…she was always in charge, always in a position of power, never allowing anyone to have anything over her but it felt good to cling to someone, to be Naia and not the Grey Warden…not the Carta thug… 

 

It truly was a position that would have Zevran spouting all sorts of innuendos about and if he did Naia didn’t think she could bring herself to care; after all Alistair was warm, so close with nary a gap between them…and in her tent…and it was perhaps the realisation that only a few small articles of cloth were separating his skin from hers that caused her breaths to come out shallow and quick, like she’d just taken down an ogre…but this wasn’t adrenaline caused by fear…it was caused by a far more pleasant emotion one that cropped up whenever she was in Alistair’s presence…

 

“…Naia…” by the Ancestors she wanted him, she couldn’t deny that the look of barely concealed need in his own honey coloured eyes was enough cause an ache in the pit of her belly. It was rare to catch him like that, she knew he watched her, she’d heard more than one off handed comment from her other companions about Alistair’s eyes sticking to her hips as they walked on wherever they happened to be that day but she never thought he’d look upon her branded face with such need and adoration…

 

“Ali…kiss me…please…” at any other time she would have been ashamed of the begging undercurrent and whimper in her voice, but not when he was looking down upon her like that, not when his pink tongue swiped across his lower lip in an unbearably slowly movement, mere seconds before those very lips descended upon her own.

 

His lips like hers were chapped, not soft like in the tales told to dwarflings before bed, it didn’t matter though…nothing truly mattered but the joining of their lips, the warm rush from her head to her toes, the shiver down her spine when his large work-worn hand enclosed over her cheek in a tender caress that seemed so contradictory to his size but so very Alistair all the same. His body radiated heat, every hard muscle pressed against her softer more pliant body. At any other time perhaps he would have been nervous and run off blushing to a cold lake for a dip to calm his raging need, that was made so apparent by his own body responding to hers…but he couldn’t bring himself to care, she was so much smaller than him in every way...when standing her head barely reached his shoulder…he came to the realisation that he could crush her if he wanted, to know she had such trust in him, allowing him closer to her than anyone else…it sent more blood from his head to his already hardening member. 

 

He hadn’t much experience in this except with his own hand, and a few quick kisses behind the chantry as a boy, there was most certainly an undercurrent of fear in his actions…fear that he’d ruin this…this…well this budding relationship with her, fear that he’d hurt her…he was just so much larger than her and while that aroused him more than anything, it also terrified him to the core...but her eager responses, her hands threading through his copper-ish hair was enough to give him some resolve and confidence as he stripped himself of his tunic…

 

Her hands slid down from carding through his hair, down his neck to rest upon his chest. She found there was a fine dusting of copper hair leading downwards to disappear tantalisingly beneath his britches…he was beautiful, the sight of just his bare chest wetted her smalls…she was leaning on her hands now studying his body as he sat knelt on his knees willingly kneeling for her observations, a hint of nervousness behind his eyes. He was so different, yet so similar to a dwarf male…there was so much strength in his body, he was lean and built, not wide and stocky like a dwarf but broad for a human all the same….his hips lead into a v shape that she’d never seen on a dwarf before…he was…

 

“ _…beautiful_ ” She all but purred out the whisper, but he heard it all the same and his smalls had become unbelievably tight, and his cheeks ruddier than Lilianna’s hair…he became far too nervous and seeing it she knew he wasn’t going to make another move until he calmed himself or she started something, so she relinquished herself of her tunic and britches only sitting in her smalls she let him look.

 

Andraste’s flaming knickers…she was all soft curves and skin…growing up he had heard all manner of women talk about child bearing hips but…dear lord hers were something else…and her waist! Maker, her waist had the most deliciously prominent dipped curve he’d had the pleasure of seeing and her armour did her thighs, her waist, her breasts, her whole body no justice at all…she was so, so extraordinary. 

 

“Maker, I am a lucky, lucky man…” his voice had dropped an octave, it set a jolt of need straight to her groin…she shivered, the convulsion of her spine a reaction to his adoring gaze and if she had a choice she’d wish to stay there, in that tent with him forever with that same warmth in her heart and in her smalls. He leaned over her hands placed besides her head, thighs straddling her hips despite their difference in anatomy, she enjoyed being caged by his arms…there was a sense of security in his body enclosing around her, it was the same feeling she got whenever he hugged her or playfully lifted her about because of something she said.

 

“I…show me how to touch you, where to touch you…how to please you…” His voice was quite, admiring but anxious like a child almost…but he was no child. Gold eyes met honey brown in an exchange of emotion, there was passion on the surface obscuring all that fear and nervous apprehension that came from two people wanting to join but not wanting to ruin what they had…but there was some deeper emotion in his eyes, reassuring and soft, much like the way Rica would look at her as a child…

 

It’s that unidentified emotion that caused her infinitely smaller hand to grasp his own and bring it to her covered breast, he instinctively squeezed causing a pleased groan to fall from her throat. Licking his lips he continued wrenching a quiet moan from her lips as a hand slid under her breast band gently, her head leaned further back exposing her throat to Alistair’s eyes and he couldn’t stop himself from placing a tentative kiss on the tanned skin of her throat. At her sounds of approval he continued placing firmer kisses and gentle nips to her skin working from her throat to the junction between her neck and shoulder…Sweet Andraste…her skin was so soft…

 

Her own hands had begun a trek from shoulder to chest, trailing slowly down his pectorals to his hips tracing that unusual v shaped indentation, her careful touches brought a shiver across his back and for a moment he wondered if he looked like a cat with its back raised. Her hands travelled across his sides and round to his back, her nails scrapping down in clear sharp lines that attained an unabashed moan from his throat, before they rested against the laces to his britches pulling at them lightly.

 

As much as he had been uncertain about this…about where to place his hands and what to do with himself, his need was clouding his mind, directing his movements with more ease than he would have while clearheaded. He helped her wretch their remaining clothing free from their bodies, his kisses leaving her neck to trail down her collar bone and over the top of her left breast before his lips came to enclose around the rosy bud of her nipple suckling like a babe. 

 

“ _…A-ali..._ ”Naia gripped his hair with vigor, holding him to her breast…it felt so good, the moans ripped from her throat, her drunken romp with Leske was nothing compared to this…her whole body burned with a delicious fire and her hips undulated underneath his own, her legs began to raise to wrap around his hips pulling him snuggly against her. 

 

As much as foreplay was something they’d both enjoy immensely this was their first joining and she wished for nothing more than his member inside of her, filling her and completing her physically, emotionally and spiritually…because as much as she tried to deny it, she loved this man…this human with his long legs and his far too large hands and his goofy nature…even his sometimes stubborn honor…she was admittedly smitten with this bronto of a human and ancestors guide her, she wasn’t going to let him go heir to the throne or not. 

 

“Please…Ali… _Oh Ancestors…_ ” his lips covered hers with renewed enthusiasm as her hand enclosed around his member, gently guiding him into her. It’s everything he didn’t expect, sure he’d heard his fellow Grey Wardens talking about how it felt be join with a woman…but _Maker,_ she was so warm and wet and she was so perfectly tight around him, he couldn’t help but moan into her neck as they found a slow, gentle rhythm. 

 

It wasn’t fast like that time with Leske…but it was better, she liked the care he took in her, the way his hands flittered from place to place, sometimes on her hip pulling her tighter against him, drawing him deeper, other times tangled in her hair exposing her neck to his lips, the scruff on his chin scratching slightly. He was so filling, and gentle…and perfect… _By the stone…_ why hadn’t they done this before? 

 

As they sought their completion their movements got more vigorous, his thrusts growing harder and quicker, her hips following his movements. If anyone walked past Naia’s tent they’d surely hear Alistair’s pleasure grunts and her keening moans and heartfelt whispers…It’s nearing she can feel the unbearable pressure in her abdomen and they both lose their rhythm their movements growing wild. He’s not sure whether the heights of pleasure he feels are normal or if they’re because it’s her…he’s almost sure it has to be because of her, because he loves her and there’s no two ways about it he’d certainly be less flustered by anyone else, less confident, less eager and as white bursts in his vision Alistair could care less if it’s a normal requirement or not…because he’s finally got her.

He lays his cheek against her bare chest after they’ve found their completion spent and tired, cloths everywhere, but he eventual finds some energy to roll off her and pull her into his side holding her closer and there’s no real need for heartfelt confessions after such a blatant display of love and care but they’re both new to this and both have that unresolved worry that perhaps they’re imagining it all…

“ _…Love you,_ Ali” It’s a quite whisper against his neck where her head is nuzzled but he hears it and draws her closer to his side and rests his head against her own.

“And I love you, Naia…” She nuzzles further into his neck and there is a contentment in the air that neither have felt before, but it’s so good and calm and he can forget for a moment that the whole of Ferelden and the outcome of the blight rests on their shoulders and for once he’s happy to fall asleep with an awareness that no harm could get to her and no harm could get to him as long as they had each other’s backs…like they always would.


End file.
